Within the context of our Männerbund, there is a question of culture. The weight of the question varies along the lines of niches within the ‘Bund proper. We have committed Christians, one may presume they share a common subculture. There are Pagans; this is a more complicated affair. We have materialists, but I suppose that they’re made of sterner stuff. However, the driving waves that eroded our landscape the most are the ones that remind us that for all of our special interests, many more brothers simply do not know where they stand. They woke up, got up on their feet again, only to realise the floor has rotted out beneath them, and the Carpenter was out to lunch, the Framer learned to code, and the Homeowner is all on his own.

                A question that’s asked, sometimes sarcastically, is “What is even White?” Poor syntactical alignment aside, it’s not an unfair question. What is our culture? We know White is a culture, or, rather, cultures. In my own niches within the ‘Bund proper, I have been asked to confront the question. There is no immediately easy answer. One might propose this or that, but there appear to be holes, stopping points, trigger words. In the most recent addition to the Männerbund Dispatch, prior to this essay, the question of Ethnogenesis was discussed. Intra-Ethnic rivalries were discussed. The reality is, we are not all ‘just’ ‘White Americans.’ Assume we are American, and assume this is an identity all its own, a stable phenotype. I’ve no compunction with this hypothetical. To become a good theory however, it needs context and substance. That requires footwork. Footwork is sometimes a thing the individual inquirer shuns. To his detriment, and ours. We can in no way, sustain inactivity. No culture can. There was a time in philosophy that it was understood that life arises from motion, and ends in stillness. Simple. As above, so below. What’s good for the goose suits the gander. Culture requires movement for growth.

                We have been subject to entropic force. Stultification, and worse, stagnation.  Whittled away like a senile brain in an ageing body, and now we find it increasingly difficult to muster the IQ to muster clever metaphors. It’s a dead horse that’s been beat in front of God and Grandma for years. I began typing this sprawling wordplay to introduce a side project of mine, but it occurs to me that before I do even that, we might dissect with attempted clinical precision some of the intricacies of our problem. After all, the image is not truly clear in consensual terms, or else the day would have been won many moons ago.

                I have had plenty to say about this in my personal blog. I might even remember enough of what’s been said to provide references for the few, the brave, the people who follow breadcrumbs in this generally intellectually unmotivated and entitled era of brats who want everything done for them; with footnotes, cliffnotes, and no effort.

                Rather than focus on (((the problem))) I want to break it down, compartmentalise things; as I don’t think (((the problem))) is easily addressed as a monolith. That attitude, I think, is a disservice because it is a scapegoat. And scapegoat is not a mentality befitting anyone of our stature. Our culture is in disarray. This was innumerably illustrated in the latest Bundescast to this published essay. How? In what way? In what ways does culture manifest that we can measure the destruction?

                Material Culture: In my essay “The Shirt on Your Back” I made (I think) a decent description of this. Perhaps you will go there and find that, perhaps not; that is your choice. However, the crux of material culture, beyond a cheeky retort of how obvious it is from the title, would be to note clothing and architecture styles. Due to the increasing time preference cascade required to exist in this degenerate hellscape we call Clown World, sacrifices were made. In industrial architecture we have brutalism. In residential architectures we have condominiums. I am a carpenter, and I will attest that finish work is made quite bland by several factors. Clients don’t want to spend their hard earned money on quality. Because demand drives supply, big box outfit stores sell you cheap soulless garbage. When I come into your house to patch up your kitchen, I know from your crown moulding if you shop at Home Deport or Lowes. In older, more elegant homes, one asks, ‘who was your carpenter, that made that trim?’ Facades on houses had styles and flourish, returns on roofs were often Victorian or Baroque. Now? Whatever. You travel to a city, you know you’ve entered the “Old” quarter simply from the way the brick was laid. Elegant lintels replace functional steel awnings, headpieces replace monolithic concrete vomitus. You get the idea. It is not just a question of structural elegance. Clothing is mass produced. Anyone could be from anywhere. The plaid a Mainer wears, is the same as some poor bastard God cursed to live in California wears. Or Germany. Or Africuh. The cellphone frying your daddy bags and giving you testicular cancer because you pocket it next to your prostate looks the same in every State of the Union, and Country of the World. Your car is ugly, my grandfathers is cooler. The driving point is this, the bigger the number used to calculate the eternal Current Year, the less individuality there is. This despite the lie we’re sold that we are individualists. Individualist, of course, is longhand for idiot. A prime example of material culture is art. Art used to be distilled into ages of technique, but even art has deadlines now. Paintings which once took decades are crushed into… hours, thanks to incredible technology. Still, timestamping art changes character. I am an artist, and I know another Brother who is famous on the twitters. (Or Telegram? I’m not a social media guru.) We agree, and understand, what it means to feel the devolution of art. Of course, art is a broad spectrum. Maybe a Councilman invites you to dinner one day, and you see that he has on his wall a Coat of Arms bearing the insignia of our group, the Bundesmark. It used to be that a man’s home was his castle, and that his decorum reflected his sensibilities. Now most houses are cheap imitations of crappy magazines written by women and faygolahz. Now, now my house? Every-time I replace woodwork, I remake it myself – I inscribe it with Runes, or knotwork. The cement has been repainted to reflect the Nordic, Hellenic, and Italic influences on my thinking.  The character of my house is mine, as it should be. In the future, technically skilled Bundsmen will trade skill and product, and in the generations that oversee our corpses, we will have left a material legacy which is ours. Consider the impression the dead make on the living. We love to wonder about the homes and holdings of the dead, the long dead, but not the recently deceased. Think on that. Ancient archaeology is cherished because it is a testament, nobody cares much about concomitant trappings because it is inescapable how blasé and uninspiring globalism really is. We can, must, and I believe will, change this. Cultural revolution is material, as well as social, religious, and metastasised. Onward.

                Social Culture: Speaking of “anyone could be anywhere.” Let’s talk about where you’re from. Excluding soulless and unaccented New Hampshire, every New England State has a variant of an accent. This is social culture. Isolation multiplied by generation gives you social culture. Elsewhere I’ve used the formula to describe Folk Soul, which will become useful in describing Meta Culture later. Yet it goes, if you stand a twenty year old Mainer and a twenty year old Californian together… You probably won’t see, hear, or smell a great difference. They have the same bland television accent, and utilise the same disgustingly globalised material culture. Every State had, or should still have, unique metaphors, aphorisms, and proverbs. They should all have their own unique traditions and culinary variants on a spin. As with material culture, social culture has been disintegrated and incorporated into globalism. Now, people make a game of reckoning where I’m from. The riddle is that I’m from Everywhere and Nowhere because I am a man with/out a home, my home is here and gone because everywhere else moved in and left. Social culture is a bridge between what precedes, and what proceeds in my list. Without social distinction, nihilism follows. Consider: if you travel a State away, and only know you’ve left home because you passed a sign… What are you defending? Monotony? Globalism? Well played, Schlomo. However, just as Ethnogenesis is not limited to any epoch, neither is cultural generation. In the essay Bundeskultur we bandy about what our burgeoning social culture looks like. For that matter, many other fine essays on the Männerblog do the same. Next is…

                Religious Culture: It goes without saying that regions used to have religious character. In the United States (where I am from) the North was characterised by a cerebral and contemplative religious belief, whereas the South was given to a passionate and convivial religious faith. Much ado was made of the social cultural effects on religion way back when, and anthropology hadn’t been sodomised by Boaz’ brown finger. Religious culture has always affected and effected both material and social culture. In earlier days, (I’m talking ancient days) and in times of scarcity, religious culture becomes predominant, as a primary definer and enforcer of other culture. Of course, in other times, religious culture is shaped by the other forms. Protestant, Catholic, integrity and order, insight and discipline. All these influences shaped a Nation for it to degenerate back into a Country. But there is another aspect, my sweet little baby, that I want to push.

                Meta Culture: In dissident circles we love to abuse the concept of Meta. Metahistory, metaphysics, why not Meta-Culture? Look. Nobody knows where or how any of this started, but the further back you go in pursuit of an impossible answer, paradoxically, the more the current picture starts to make sense. We have been numbed to the Meta. It’s made modern man flat, boring, and disgustingly two-dimensional. It is, of course, an unforgivable sin. And it is (forgive me) our own damn fault. I have danced the nationalist dance long enough to observe a soul-sickeningly infuriating, almost bowel disrupting phenomenon. Being a Nationalist is like reading Waiting for Godot upside down, in your underpants, in a train-station where Asian broads laugh at you and give you the coof. It’s a nightmare. The same damn story is played on an infinite loop so tightly that you can’t even make it to da batchroom to find me hangin before the script resets and all the racist NPCs revert to their programming of asking, “Well now what do we do?”

                Stop. Incline your ear to a sea-shell. You can hear me REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEing.

That’s better. Meta Culture should be the recognisance that “culture” exists on the same plane as “physics” or “materialism” (in the authentic and heterosexual meaning of the word.) Metaphysics helps us understand that “material” is a superficial construct, but that “reality” occurs on infinitely complex terms beneath the surface, beyond the scope, and above the grasp of the immediate sensorial capacity to grok what is. Metahistory, in a similar capacity, strives to reveal the innermost mechanisms of driving events and show that history doesn’t have a beginning or ending, as betrayed by “dates.” (For cucks who believe “time” exists.) Culture is more than a word. It is more than clothes. Culture implies history, and religion, because it stems from a place where none of these artificial constructs were linearly understood, and did not exist as the self-defeating artifices we use now.

                Our ‘culture,’ as we typically fail to understand it, is simultaneously an evolutionary adaptation, fuelled by sublimated religious impulse. It defies both science and religion, because for the European and Aryan mind (of which we are a synthesis, by all accounts that matter) these things were both lungs to the body of the people. A metahistorical exercise is to determine when science and religion became distinct. (HINT: THEY DIDN’T. Modern scientism is the same as religious extremism of the worst kind –  self-deluded emotional masturbation that doesn’t result in an orgasm and turns you into a bitter, cat owning dink who drinks wine and cries before bed.) A metacultural exercise is to follow both scientific and religious enterprises and see where they converge. In most cases, you will find a harmonious social condition with cultural cohesion.  

                Meta-Culture is the fact that, despite their incalculable anachronisticity, the oldest myths of our Race still inform custom. Commonplace occurrences like Christmas are a syncretic compromise of parts equally Pagan and Christian. Metaculture is balancing extremely aged concepts in modern lens, without sacrificing the vitality of either. It is recognising that what we have to work with is not the product of antiquity, but is antiquity. That past is not gone. It did not disappear. It became the present, it is a contiguity of existential threads. Just as the future is nothing more than the present, as it is laid subject to those entropic forces mentioned earlier. (Time is fake and gay.)

                Metaculture is being able to read the Lore of our kith and kin, and seeing them for more than mere tales. In every myth is a history. That history becomes richer with the passing of every calendar page. Therefore every “myth” (myth, you must recall means story) only increases in value. A religious myth contains shreds of physical history, ethnographic knowledge, and much more. SO, often what appear to be flights of fancy are factual accounts sheathed in spiritual language. The modernite does a disservice by dismissing Higher Truth as fancy, and with every breath he takes in that vein he serves his enemy, and makes their case for them. Nihilism is the Devil’s tool, and we know the (((devil))) wears many masques. Lore is one of my sweetest passions, and will be the topic of a podcast I aim to introduce in my next submission.

                In Metaculture (which ideally informs and is informed by at least marginal syncretism) we begin to see unity where there is diversity. It is how a White Christian and a White Pagan can coexist, even with the White Materialist. It does not have to be a battle of supremacy, as both forces were products of a focused adaptation of culture through evolving mores and folkways. Alfred Rosenberg worked with this mindset in his Myth of the 20th Century. “Bad” optics aside, Uncle Adi’s Book Club was the last men’s group to envision a world in which Science, Religion, and Culture operated as a monad as opposed to a triad. And look at the result! A very painful miracle, and a war in which the entire “civilised” world was called upon to defeat a small confederation of revolutionaries who have been blamed ludicrously for all the world’s problems since after being strong-armed into fratricide.

                The Männerbund has keys to all these forms of culture, as we are a cultural movement (say what you will of politics, which, is a form of culture.) What we need to do is plumb the depths. This exhortation applies to all who have read this far, it applies to Councilmen, Brothers, Fellows, Initiates, and Outlanders. In Nationalism, people get complacent. Lazy. They think ‘waking up’ or ‘taking the Red Pill’ means their job is done. How? That is the most asinine attitude that a man could contrive. To wake up, or to take that Red Pill, is to realise your work is never done. Every day that passes in which you do not apply yourself to our cause in some way; is a waste. Plain and simple. As Stefan Molyneux said, there are no more arguments. The time for argumentation and division is over. I don’t care what your talents are, because I will go on record with this: one of your talents coincides with the forms of culture I have attempted to define. You have a gift that you can use to support your Männerbund in one of these arenas. If you say you don’t then you are mistaken, or else you are a liar.

                Perhaps you are nervous. Perhaps you are afraid. I don’t care. And that was not written with a callous air. It is a tragedy that White Men of good character are self-destructively self-conscious. In my purview in the Männerbund I call home, I am unofficial organiser of things Pagan. I’m also an agitator for things Syncretic. However, in some ways, I feel my role as a former behaviour containment module educational technical has remained unchanged, in that my particular role is not to introduce knowledge, but to coax people into embracing knowledge or talents they already have. If you have read this far, be advised; we all need you, I need you, our leaders need you, to apply yourself more fully.

                It is not a burden I ask to lay on your shoulders. Service to the Bund is freeing. Recently our editor thanked me for dealing with comments in the Männerblog as if it were some big thing. It isn’t. I’m glad to do it. It feels good. But I know a thing. One of the hardest elements of our struggle, the greatest impediments to success is a small but great obstacle. People are afraid of looking silly. They’re afraid that if they speak an idea they fostered, it will seem silly. They rationalise this, they think ‘ah, well, so-and-so is smarter than me.’ So what? What has that got to do with anything at all? If you have a thought, speak your mind. Never rely on the next guy to do it. I know I want to hear all your thoughts. (One of the reasons I love and hammer on the comment sections.)

                More than thoughts, consider how many talents have been squandered. And for what? Not wanting to look silly? Hogwash. In the latest Männercast to this article, Captain Ahab addressed the men of the Bund he had met as elite. A fine compliment to be sure. However, at this phase we need a Spartan, or a (Republican) Roman mindset. Elitism implies aristocracy. This is fine. Aristocracy is necessary. What is not fine, is the abject abuse the idea/feeling of the word has endured. What is worse, is the results our men have endured on account of an implied misunderstanding they often fail to scrutinise. One imagines aristocracy, they think of a callous and degenerate minority imploring a majority to double-standards. A tragedy, and tragically unnecessary. We write our own rules here. Let that sink in, please. In us democracy as it was meant to be, can be. Democracy (you should know Demos) was a tribal term. Short of Genus, but in excess of Oikos. We are building our Demos. We need your help. You, personally. I never waste my time with the vague and impersonal you. Neither should you.

                We must become a Brotherhood of Equals. Princips, in a word. First among equals. Yes. That is egalitarianism. However, if we accept our role as ushering an aristocracy, or an elitist branch, it follows that there is no room for doubt, insecurity, or despair. Neither in feeling, nor deed; neither in thought, nor in action. These are devils which must be banished with the utmost prejudice. Just as the serpent was to be crushed underfoot in the Christian apocalypse, so must we grind our own demons of malaise and uncertainty. Grind the bones of that serpent into meal and use it to feed the trees, these shall become the Trees of Life and the Trees of Knowledge, and that is how we shall carve out our slice of heaven on earth as it was foretold.

                Ironically, this article began as something else entirely, written in ‘stream of consciousness’ as with everything else I do. It began as an introduction to one of my side-projects. But I realised, it behoved me to decry why such projects are necessary. I shall save my self-shilling for another time, and leave you with this: There is a cultural advancement in every Bundsman. Beyond being good company on hikes, there is an advancement each of you can make to further our burgeoning culture. You can assist established Bundsmen with their projects, provide visual support to our endeavours online, physical support to our labours in person. Uncertain? Call on a Councilman or trusted Brother. Or, when an established Brother asks, answer.


Honourable mentions:

Shirt on Your Back, Sperg Box

Past, Present, Future: Männercast

Bundeskultur, Männerblog


Husband. Craftsman. Nationalist. - -

2 thoughts on “Metaculture

  • Pingback: Happenings in the ‘Bund – The Sperg Box

  • May 13, 2020 at 12:05 PM

    When it becomes necessary for all men to rise up and stand for their fellow man as one. I’ll be there, as I am here now. Agile, grounded, laughing and writing new lines in the story of this life.

    Everyday could seem indifferent to any other and others piled on top of another, before the quest searching for “meaning and significance”. It is true Men matter. And White men matter. I am guilty of many words and remarkable design, music and art. I’m not above the windings of ideas & paths for the better over a scotch. Wind with purpose all the days of your life but don’t only wind, live.
    Be there & sober when the shite hits the fan. I may call.


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